


On Loving Billy

by lilpeas



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: 1990s, Alternate Universe - College/University, Breaking Up & Making Up, Fluff and Angst, Getting Back Together, Idiots in Love, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Post-Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:48:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24832621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilpeas/pseuds/lilpeas
Summary: “I’m good, you know.” Billy says. His face is empty, expressionless, the way it was when Steve threw books at him and shouted,what do you mean you’re leaving? That’s it? We’re done?Steve can do nothing but stare at Billy.He wants to say,I’m not. I’m not and I never will be. You didn’t just break my heart Billy, you blew it up. It’s not lying on the floor ready to be put back together, it’s floating in microscopic dust in the motherfucking air.(OR, The Trials of Two Idiots in Love)
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 62
Kudos: 375





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Restricted Work] by [luxover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/luxover/pseuds/luxover). Log in to view. 



> All I can say is that I'm a total sucker for break up and make up, and believe me that is this entire story!

“Yo.” Billy says when Steve walks in, sprawled on the sofa with his feet kicked up on the coffee table. He flicks through the channels on Steve’s TV.

Steve pauses, because he’s not seen Billy in two and a half weeks.

“Hey.” Steve tries for casual and shoves off his shoes. He tries not to look over at the sofa. But his skin begins to prickle, as though it doesn’t know how to react. It's always sensed when Billy is near, always given him warning.

“Was just picking up some of my stuff.” Billy finally explains, in his extremely on-brand _yeah it’s whatever I have absolutely no feelings about this._

“What stuff?” Steve moves into the kitchen and pulls a glass from a cupboard, fills it with water for something to do. His hands have a slight tremble in them. He keeps them busy to cover it.

“Socks, toothbrush, my razors,” Billy lists, holding three up behind him, “And shampoo.” A final finger pops up.

Steve dinks. He gulps the water down his dry throat and licks his lips once he’s done. “Cool.”

It’s a pretty inconsequential list as lists go.

But Steve stopped trying to figure Billy out when Billy broke up with him one morning in bed about three weeks ago, so he’s not about to question it.

No doubt Billy doesn’t feel like forking out for the expense of that assortment of items which, combined, probably costs less than ten dollars.

“Oh, can I have my jacket back too?” Billy asks. His voice is flat, neutral, as though he’s speaking to a waiter.

Steve pulls the glass away from his mouth. “I thought you said I could have that.”

“Sorry, pal.” Billy turns around a little and flashes him a smile fake as plastic.

Not that it matters. This is the jacket Billy wore to their first date. The jacket Billy wordlessly swung around Steve’s shoulders as they walked home in the cold, with warmth in his eyes when Steve blinked in surprise. The soft way he said, _hey, looks a lot better on you._ The gentle way Billy patted both of Steve’s shoulders down in an action shockingly unsure.

That jacket.

Steve isn’t backing down without a fight.

“Can I just keep it?” He throws out. “It’s pretty worn at this point. It probably fits me better than you now.”

Steve’s been wearing it for almost a year. He’s pretty sure the leather has adjusted to his frame. So what the cuffs are a little short and the rest is a little bulky? It’s perfect because of all that shit. It fits him just perfect.

Steve’s certainly not going to find it in a fucking store.

“You got any idea how expensive those things are, Harrington?” Billy continues. He obviously won’t budge an inch.

 _You didn’t seem to care when we were dating_ , Steve wants to point out. But he doesn’t need told it’s because Billy cared about him then. The price of the jacket was outweighed by Steve, and now it’s not.

Steve sets the glass down on the counter. He turns toward his bedroom, finds the jacket easily, and throws it at Billy’s head.

“Woah!” Billy laughs. He doesn’t seem to realise that Steve’s separated his forced locker-room bark to his genuinely surprised laughter. “Where’s the fire?”

“There’s your jacket.” Steve states. He picks up his water and fills it up again. He glugs it down because he can’t punch anything when Billy is three feet away.

Billy doesn’t reply.

There’s a beat where he’s just flipping through channels and Steve is chugging water. And then Billy says, “So, plans tonight?”

“None.” Steve says.

How much longer does Billy want to drag this out?

“You seeing anyone yet?”

Steve holds his glass mid-way to his mouth. “Billy, it’s been like two weeks.”

Three. It’s been three weeks since they broke up. Two weeks since Steve last saw him, stone-faced and packing the rest of his things. Seems like this is going to become a regular occurrence.

“So?” Billy twists on the sofa.

Steve turns away.

Something claws its way into his chest and forces him wide open. He can feel his pulse pick up, a sweat-sick beat, just at the very thought of what Billy is saying.

“I’m not having this conversation with you.” He manages. He wants to swallow, but finds he can’t. He grips the counter.

“Suit yourself.”

There’s a beat.

“You not going to ask–?” Billy starts.

“I said I’m not having this conversation.”

“Alright.” Billy says easily, too easily.

So he want to torture Steve with thoughts of him with someone else tonight. Very big. Very mature.

Or is this his subtle way of hinting that he’s already found someone? Asking Steve first to test the waters, and waiting until Steve returns the question?

When Steve was younger he asked a friend what they’d got on a test because Steve got a C. It turns out his friend got a B. Steve had asked hoping his friend had done worse. Hoping his friend would make him feel better.

He’s resolved never to ask questions if there’s a chance he won’t like the answer.

He’s not about to give Billy the satisfaction of telling Steve either.

Steve keeps his back turned to Billy as he washes out his glass and sets it beside the sink.

When he turns around, Billy is stood in his kitchen doorway, with (Steve’s) jacket on and a bag of things in his hand.

Billy’s shirt is halfway unbuttoned and tucked into Levi jeans, hip cocked, hair freshly washed and still a little fluffed up. He looks clean and handsome. Steve can even smell him from over here. He soaks in the sight of Billy – long-missed after weeks of nothing – until he remembers he’s just out of work.

Steve loosens his tie as he turns back around, rolling up his sleeves and sticking his hands in the sink. There’s one spoon in it, and he washes with gusto.

Billy always told him how square he looked in a suit, how stiff and prim.

“Yo.” Billy states.

Steve huffs and turns to face Billy again. He doesn’t think he’s heard Billy say the word _yo_ so many times.

Billy’s tense, the muscles of his biceps jumping underneath the leather. “I’m going.”

Steve nods, disinterested. “Cool.”

Billy nods back. “Yeah.”

“Where you staying?”

Fuck. Steve isn’t going to like this answer. Two whole weeks of radio silence: clearly Billy’s found someone else. Steve has practically convinced himself at this point. And it’s going to tear him in two, and he’s not going to be able to hide it –

“Max’s.” Billy says. “Just for now.”

Steve feels himself exhale, and knows Billy sees it. “Right. Tell her I say hello.”

Billy looks at Steve for a beat. “You can still talk to her, you know.”

Steve looks everywhere but at Billy. “Yeah.”

“Hey.” Billy says.

Steve looks at him then, because Billy’s voice sounds a little bit more like Billy. And it cuts deep, because Billy’s voice sounded this way late at night, in the shower, at a party close to his ear. _Hey_.

“I’m good, you know.” Billy says. His face is empty, expressionless, the way it was when Steve threw books at him and shouted, _what do you mean you’re leaving? That’s it? We’re done?_

Steve can do nothing but stare at Billy.

He wants to say, _I’m not. I’m not and I never will be. You didn’t just break my heart Billy, you blew it up. It’s not lying on the floor ready to be put back together, it’s floating in microscopic dust in the motherfucking air. And I’m never getting it back._

All Steve does is nod.

Billy raps knuckles against the ceiling and leaves. Steve doesn’t watch, but he feels Billy leave. He feels the cold space at the doorway. And he clutches the sink and squeezes his eyes tight, but it doesn’t make a difference. 

*

When Billy Hargrove first kissed Steve, they had just defeated a Demogorgon.

The Party had dragged Billy out from the Upside-Down a few weeks before, but that had required opening the thing up. And so Demogorgon’s were running amok in Hawkins once again, only they had Billy on their side this time.

Billy, whose eyes became impossibly wide when Steve swung his nail-bat in such a cinematic arc that it sent the Demogorgon flying a couple centimetres in the air.

Billy was wielding nothing but his bare fists, but that didn’t stop him from taking advantage of Steve’s move by punching a hole straight through the Demogorgon’s chest.

His mouth became a perfect circle _O_ as the Demogorgon crumpled to the ground between Billy and Steve, leaving just their shocked faces.

It was just the two of them in the forest because they had run off on their own – rather, Billy had heard a noise and gone off.

And Steve sprinted after him, giving a hurried wave to the rest of the Party.

Because Billy had saved all their lives in the Starcourt Mall and he’d been torn to shreds by the Mind-flayer in the process. Because he'd survived it all and came back to school as though nothing happened. Because he'd been trapped in the Upside Down for months and managed to make it look stylish.

Because he just sauntered in with his denim-clad everything, sat next to Steve during lunch, and rapped his knuckles against Steve’s head – the side that he’d smashed with a plate.

Because Steve had blinked until he caught the uncertainty behind the cocksure grin Billy was sporting, and so he grinned right back.

Because Billy never backed down, not once, and there’s something wildly brave about that.

“Holy shit! I didn’t think that would work!” Billy laughed at his spread hands, now covered in black goo. “Holy _shit!”_

Steve dropped his bat and thrust two fists in the air. “Haha!” He cried, incoherent in his bewildered delight.

The beam that broke across Billy’s face was like nothing else: a wild, untamed thing, almost too big for his mouth. He shot up into the air like a spring. _“Haha!”_

Steve jumped back, and then they were jumping up and down and growing closer and closer until Billy gripped the nape of his neck and kissed him on the mouth.

He released Steve with a violent shove. Steve was too in shock until Billy threw his neck back and fucking _headbutted him._

Steve stumbled and fell on his ass, two hands coming up to his forehead.

“Woohoo!” Billy danced around like a madman, seemingly unaware that he’d kissed or headbutted Steve.

But Steve couldn’t help but laugh at Billy Hargrove’s personal brand of madness. He wanted to revel in it, wanted to roll around in it, wanted to be part of it.

So he flew up and tackled Billy around the middle.

Even the element of surprise couldn’t un-foot Billy, who just skidded a little before throwing an arm around Steve’s neck and bare-knuckling his hair. He got gunk all up in it so hard that Steve was washing it out for weeks.

Steve thought about the kiss every night.

After that, it became tradition. Defeat a Demogorgon, enact a celebration ritual of jump, kiss, and tackle one another.

Soon it wasn’t enough though. Soon Steve wanted more. The second of hard-press against his mouth didn’t feel like anything; Billy was there and gone in half a second, and the exhilaration that it was _Billy_ so close faded down to a quiet ache.

The Demogorgon’s were clearing out and the Gate was only open by an inch.

So when the last Demogorgon fell between them, and Billy whipped around to find Steve with excited hunger on his face, Steve bypassed the ritual entirely by tackling Billy in a headlock and messing up his mullet.

Billy freed himself easily. There was a familiar sneer on his face as his eyes darted to Steve’s mouth for a half-second.

“Watch it.” He shoved his fingers hard into Steve’s shoulders, not the usual way. Steve felt their intention to hurt.

Steve staggered back, confused.

Until he saw the rejection that Billy had taken it for. Billy assumed Steve didn’t want to continue their ritual now that there wasn’t a reason to. Only Steve didn’t want to continue their ritual because he planned on making a move without any inter-dimensional aliens present.

So Steve grinned and walked Billy up against a tree.

“What?” He murmured, exhaling close to his slack-jawed face. “Did I miss something?”

Billy seemed inarticulate for a moment. His eyes blackened in the moonlight. His breath hitched, and Steve could taste the sweetness of it; could literally taste Billy from just this distance.

“Huh?”

It was the most uncertain Steve’s ever heard Billy sound. Steve had the element of surprise, and now knew that a surprised Billy was just about the best thing in the world.

“This part?” Steve whispered.

Billy didn’t reply, just stared at Steve, and then he blinked and his gaze cleared. “What?” He shoved Steve back. “The kiss?” He barked strangely, the noise even less convincing than in the locker-room. “That’s a _joke_ , Steve. I ain’t a fag.”

Steve reeled back.

Billy shouldered past him.

Steve stood there dumbly because … because he was _sure_. Unless he’d read everything wrong.

But he’d never been _this_ wrong before. It felt practically incomprehensible he had totally misunderstood everything.

But the way Billy spat the word was ugly and foul.

Steve had never liked a guy until Billy, still all the signals from Billy were _there_. Steve felt it in the way Billy reacted when Steve was close – hell, a couple of seconds ago was a shining example. Steve had an effect on Billy nobody else did. Steve knew he did.

Billy’s tongue dried up, his cheeks flushed hot, his eyes tracked Steve’s every movement.

Steve knew, because he reacted the same way. And he assumed Billy could feel it like Steve could, this charged air between them, crackling with some kind of electrical impulse whenever they got close.

But Billy avoided his gaze and waited for Steve to follow, before they walked in silence back to Hopper’s cabin.

Steve realised he’d been wrong, and it hurt. It hurt more than Steve expected. More than Steve thought was possible. He’d assumed the thing going on with Billy was some strange, experimental crush.

Billy was exciting and wild and definitely crazy. He was totally different to the girls Steve usually liked – he was totally different, _period_. Steve had never met anyone freaking close to similar.

Billy was the total opposite of Nancy. Billy had this mad-hysteria laugh and his voice was always hoarse from shouting so when he whispered, the words cracked in odd places. He smelt like smoke and cologne and leather. He never thought about a plan or a strategy, just threw himself into everything he did be it basketball or the apocalypse. He worked part-time at the local pool and drank beer so hard it spilled in a stream down his arched throat. He never made Steve feel small or inferior or dumb. He made Steve feel big, feel important, feel fucking cool and hardcore and _alive._

It wasn’t an experiment. It wasn’t a crush.

Steve was into Billy in a big way, and he was in deep. It was difficult to keep a straight face whenever Billy brushed close or laughed for real. Knowing Billy the way Steve did now made it all the worse.

Steve had never even noticed before. Billy had snuck up on him and by the time Steve realised, it was already too late. There wasn’t a way to unfeel how he felt. He found himself staring at the side of Billy’s jaw during a meeting and only snapped out of it when Mike clicked fingers in his face.

“Steve, you with us?” He asked.

Steve blinked a few times to clear his head.

Billy remained aloof and distant. His eyes slid right past Steve and re-refocused on something else whenever they spoke.

But that was when they were seventeen and fresh out of high-school. That was in the 80's, and things were pretty different then.

They started officially dating when they were twenty-one. But they’re twenty-two now. They might have only dated for about a year, but they’ve known each other longer than that. Much longer than that. Sometimes it feels like they grew up together.

*

After Billy leaves, Steve changes out of his suit and orders himself a pizza. He wallows in the spot Billy was in and tries to feel some of his remaining warmth, though it sounds pathetic.

He knows he probably won’t see Billy for a long time, and even then it’ll grow so fraught and infrequent that one day Steve will wake up and realise he hasn’t seen Billy in months. In years.

He remembers the day Billy moved in. It was the day after their first date. They had waited so long; why wait longer?

Remembers unpacking all of Billy’s things and settling him into this place and calling it their home, referring to it as home, saying things like _when are you home, can you pick these up on your way home, I’m almost home._

It’ll take a long time before Billy is moved out. Even sat on this sofa, Steve intimately remembers every single time they kissed and fucked and fell asleep on it.

“I need to get rid of my sofa.” Steve realises out loud, one hand splayed on the material.

He finishes the last slice of pizza and, curious, Steve presses his nose to the back of his couch.

Sure enough, like Billy Hargrove is his own personal aroma, Steve smells him there. Billy's smell pervades every space he enters, a mixure of motor-oil and smoke and forest and expensive cologne. It combines in such a way to create something that even if Steve cooked it up in a lab, it wouldn't be the same as on Billy's skin.

His smell is long gone from the sheets.

 _You need to get a grip_ , Steve wants to tell himself.

Either way, Steve still sleeps on the sofa. Their bed is comfortable and huge and soft. But that’s the problem: it’s theirs.


	2. Chapter 2

Billy moved to California at nineteen. The thing Steve felt had grown arms and legs and could practically walk alongside him at this point.

Because, yeah, he was in love with Billy. Steve Harrington was in love with Billy Hargrove, it wasn’t returned, and honestly? He could live with it.

It was hard and painful and aching. Then somehow it got harder, until one day it peaked at a level of difficulty Steve floated inside.

Everything was fine.

They were friends. Billy kept a respectful distance of two metres between them, as if to shout the point he made the year before in Steve’s face. They had a special back-and-forth, a relationship of witty remarks and a mutual sense of humour, not without a few scuffles thrown in.

Billy was always asking if Steve had been laid lately, and Steve could hear the teasing in his voice. It was the same teasing way that Steve ribbed Robin whenever he caught her looking at a girl.

So Steve laughed it off and never returned the question.

If Steve wondered what it would be like to kiss Billy on the daily, he’s pretty sure everyone wonders that about their friends at some point.

Steve kicked around Family Video five days a week while Billy worked at the garage across the street. Billy, Steve and Robin hung out at the weekends. They went to the movie theatre and had their own score-cards out of ten. They had a spot at the diner and a regular order between all three of them.

Billy and Max had built a relationship of mocking remarks and harmless hair-pulling, after a stilted period of small-talk conversations and gruff attempts to display affection.

Steve was there; it truly was pitiful when Billy came back from the Upside Down –

 _Why is it called the fucking_ Upside Down? _Sounds like some kinda banana loaf_

_I played no part in the naming of things. I wanted to call the Demogorgons “Hell-Hounds”_

_See, cause that’s fucking_ sick _–_

And he barely knew how to hold himself, never mind rebuild the bridges he’d burnt to the ground between him and everyone else.

Billy cut ties with Tommy and Co. so entirely that Tommy actually crossed the street whenever he caught sight of them.

Steve had to laugh and throw an elbow into Billy’s side. _What did you say to the poor guy?_ Billy only ever tapped the side of his nose.

The Party had warmed up to Billy within the space of a month, and then two years passed and Billy was the one arranging the meetings. He was the one organising the outings, booking the hotels, driving them to the coast for road trips and dotting the landmarks on a map.

Steve’s bedroom walls were littered with photos.

Of Billy giving El a piggyback or sticking the peace sign up behind Max’s unimpressed face. Of Billy and Hopper reclined on the Cabin couch with beers in their laps. Of Billy with tinsel strung around his head and an unimpressed grin. Of Robin flipping Steve the bird while Steve gave a shocked expression. Of Steve and Robin in matching Halloween outfits side-by-side. Of Robin and Billy with tongues out playing air-guitar.

There’s one of Steve and Billy, pressed with their arms around each other and wide smiles. They had just graduated high-school. Steve remembers them being ushered close, remembers the warm weight of Billy’s arm and the way his fingertips dug into Steve’s bicep. He held Steve so tight it was just the side of painful.

And Steve was reminded of his own arrogance in assuming Billy felt the same. The kiss had been a joke.

“So, you and Robin?”

Steve blinked and turned his head to Billy. The kids were asleep at their feet, the TV a soft static in the background. It was the weekend, and Steve had offered to host the sleepover at his house.

Billy had offered to keep him company and stop him from going insane at supervising six kids.

“Hm?” He asked.

Billy took a swig of beer, made Steve wait before he asked again. “You and Robin, you guys together?”

Steve swallowed thickly. “Why? You like her?”

Bill scrunched his nose. Little rolls appeared in the bridge. “Nah. Not my type.”

“Oh.” Steve relaxed back against the sofa with an exhale.

“You?” Billy repeated.

“ _Oh_.” Steve repeated, looking at Billy. He debated whether he should tell Billy or not that Robin was gay. But then he remembered the way Billy spat the word ‘fag’. Steve didn’t think he wanted Billy to confirm Steve’s personal fears, no matter how unlikely it was that Billy still held the same beliefs after a year and a half and a whole lot of politics.

Plus Robin hadn't told Billy yet. It should be her choice.

“We aren’t like that.”

Billy sank back a little further into the sofa, a hum escaping his otherwise closed mouth.

“What’s your type, then?” Steve dared ask.

Rookie mistake.

Billy fished out a grin like a shark. “Big and blonde, baby. She’s gotta have something to grab, you know?” He mimed with two hands in the air, clearly grabbing two very specific things.

Steve grinned even as his gut sank to the bottom of his toes. _Why did I have to fall in love with Billy Hargrove? Why not someone, anyone, else?_

“Yeah.” He chuckled, hoping for an end to the conversation.

Billy caught onto it like a piece of meat dangled in front of him. “Oh yeah? That your type too? Cause last time I checked, Wheeler didn’t have much going for her in that department.”

“Hey.” Steve stated. “Lay off.”

It had been almost two years since the Starcourt Mall, and Nancy and Billy were still unable to hold a conversation. Steve didn’t buy into Billy’s excuse that she was prissy and stuck-up and never gave him the time of day.

There was a deep-seated dislike in his entire body whenever she was near and it made no sense. Nancy could fight with the best of them, was smart, brave, and more importantly witty. She and Robin were attached at the hip whenever Steve wasn’t around. She was part of the Party.

But Billy couldn’t seem to accept that.

“Ohh ho ho.” Billy whistled, hands raised in surrender. “I’s just telling it how it is. Seems like someone isn’t over Miss Perfect yet.”

“No, it’s just that I’ve got varied fucking tastes.” Steve said. _Way to put it simply._

Billy took another swig and knocked his knee against Steve’s. “Yeah?”

He clearly wanted more information, but that’s all Steve could give.

Billy tilted his head down to meet Steve’s eyes. “What’s the variation, then? Brunette? Short?”

Steve just huffed.

“Ay?” Bill prodded.

“How’s about tall, handsome, and sat two inches away from me?”

There was a sharp silence.

Steve whipped around. “Kidding!” He laughed at Billy, whose mouth was open, front teeth visible in his shock.

“Oh.” Billy sat back. “Oh. Ha!” He barked. Then he finished his beer.

The next week Billy moved to California. He got a scholarship for a college over there because of basketball, and truthfully didn’t give a shit about the major.

“I’ll just pick a bunch in the first year and decide what I wanna do later.” Billy said. “Could be learning about space for all I care.”

Steve laughed. Throwing himself head-first, no strategy, no plan. Billy Hargrove: A Summary.

“I need out this shit-hole.” Billy glanced around at the trees lining Hawkins from where they sat on the hood of someone’s car at the garage.

Then his eyes re-settled on Steve, and he gave Steve a shove. “Present company excluded and all.”

It was as close to a compliment that Steve had ever received from Billy. He tried to play off the way it made him blush like a schoolgirl by kicking a foot out and tripping Billy when Billy stood up. Billy retaliated with a full blown attack.

Steve helped Billy pack with the rest of the Party. They stuffed Billy’s life into the back of his Camaro and stood around to see him off.

Billy gave an awkward, one-armed handshake to Hopper, who pulled him in anyways and clapped him across the back. Billy then ruffled the hair of Will, Dustin and Mike, squeezed the shoulder of Lucas, hugged Max and El hard, high-fived Robin, and finally came around to Steve.

Steve lunged before Billy could decide what to do.

He lifted Billy up a little with the force of his arms around Billy’s waist, face pressed into his neck, eyes burning.

“Woah!” Billy laughed, soft and genuine. His arms came right back around Steve in return, one palm splayed across the back of Steve’s head almost protectively – as if Steve somehow needed protection despite lifting him up.

Steve set Billy down and shoved him away with a tight jaw.

Until fingers were gripped in his nape and Billy’s mouth was pressed hard to his.

Steve recovered in his shock just quick enough to see the glint in Billy’s eyes as he threw his head back.

Steve knew what was coming. He grinned as well.

They headbutted each other at the exact same time.

_“Argh!”_

**“Fuck!”**

They staggered back – Billy fell on his ass where Steve managed to stay upright. He howled at the mutinous look on Billy’s face. Then he stepped close and offered a hand.

Billy took it and Steve yanked him up. They smiled at each other, faces close.

“What the fuck?” Robin said.

“You two are idiots.” Dustin concluded.

“Why?” El asked, genuinely confused.

Billy and Steve laughed.

*

Steve didn’t see Billy for a full year after he moved out to California.

But then Steve managed to land a job in LA of all places – a paid internship at an environmental law firm, putting forward cases against organisations that were destroying the planet, lobbying politicians, researching developments in the climate crisis.

It turned out Steve was good at it. It turned out Steve actually _cared_ about it, and go figure. But anyone who didn’t care about climate change was a fucking idiot in Steve’s eyes.

And then by some miracle, Steve was walking over to his local grocery store and caught sight of him.

At first Steve thought – no, it can’t be. Was it?

Billy had a beard and his hair was trim, short. It suited him. He was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, sunglasses perched on his head, grin wide with a group of people.

Something in Steve knew it was Billy. Even as he squinted, his rapid pulse had already told him. It was an instant recognition, an old love that had fallen asleep jolting awake at Billy’s proximity.

It always felt that way when Billy was near, as if his skin didn’t know what to do. It felt somewhere in-between an itch and a tingle. It was an _awareness_.

Billy looked good: he looked amazing. He look tall and proud and happy.

Steve didn’t even know what to do, but then his voice had decided before him because he called out, “Billy!”

Billy turned and his eyes grew wide, that instant recognition returned. Steve never understood what compelled him, but he ran across the road.

Billy started towards him too, a slight jog at first until he broke out into a run as well.

It was only a few seconds until they were close enough.

Then Billy just stopped dead in front of him with a beam, mouth open as if to speak.

Which gave Steve the ability to fly into his arms.

Steve squeezed for the life of him, nose buried in the crook of Billy’s shoulder and neck.

Then Billy spun them around with that mad hyena laugh, and Steve was laughing too.

“Steve fucking Harrington!” Billy cried when he set them down.

Steve stepped out of Billy’s arms but kept a hold of both of his shoulders. “Billy fucking Hargrove!”

Billy’s group of friends had come over, and one of them stood a little closer to Billy than the rest. He looked young, handsome, and he eyed Steve up.

Steve eyed him up right back.

“I’ve missed you, ya jackass!” Billy laughed, slapped his arm.

Steve re-focused on Billy. And then he heard the words that had come out of Billy’s mouth, and he felt his face split into a beam.

“Huh, sap? You miss me?” He slapped Billy’s arm back, falling back into their old pattern of teasing.

Billy’s face went beetroot in one second. “You wish. Was just expecting the visit a lot fucking sooner than now, that’s all.” He crossed his arms, but couldn’t seem to wipe his smile.

“Oh, I’m not visiting.” Steve said. “I live here.” He grinned wide.

Billy, though, blinked. “You _live_ here? How long? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I – I figured you had your own thing going on, you know, college and all that.” Steve waved a hand.

Truthfully, Steve was scared to see Billy again and find out he was dating, he was settled, he hadn’t thought about Steve and the Party and everything he’d left. Not even once.

Which was stupid. The way Billy’s eyes swept over him twice, three, _four_ times, gaze sparkling, cheeks bunched with a smile and rosy red with a blush – he was happy to see Steve.

He was freaking _ecstatic_ to see Steve.

“I didn’t wanna intrude, ya’ know?” Steve itched the hair at his nape, gave Billy’s friends an awkward smile. Except for the guy frowning at him. Fuck that guy. Steve hated that guy.

“Don’t be a fucking bitch.” Billy threw his arm around Steve’s shoulder and pulled him around to face his friends. “Guys, this is Steve Harrington, my best goddamn friend in the world. Steve, this is Maria, Jake, and Ethan.”

Billy pointed with a finger to each of them, his grip tight and secure around Steve.

Ethan, it seemed, had a problem with Steve. Steve gave them all a grin, but made it a little tighter and fake when it came around to Ethan, close-lipped and insincere.

Ethan noticed. Ethan was a terrible actor who blinked in indignation.

“ _This_ is Steve?” Maria asked.

Steve whipped his glance to her and then back to Billy.

“You been talking about me?” Steve asked, bright and excited.

“Talkin’ ‘bout how you were meant to come see me like a month ago.” Billy grumbled. "Worried you'd tripped in a ditch and died."

But Steve caught Maria’s eyes, and he saw they way they twinkled at him, as though it were more than that.

And Steve looked back at Billy, saw the childish pout of his lips. And Steve laughed.

“I’m here now.” He said.

And it was as simple as that.

Steve was here now.

Billy took Steve to his campus. He showed Steve all the little coffee shops and all the study spaces he used, took him to the beach and showed him where his surf club met at six – _six_ – in the morning to catch waves.

Told Steve how he was studying literature and physics which didn’t really compliment one other and he had no clue what he wanted to do but it didn’t matter because he enjoyed it. Told Steve he was broke and rooming with Ethan, Maria and Jake in a tiny student building with one toilet. Told Steve the hair was new and he wasn’t sure about as soon Steve reached out to touch it. Ducked under Steve’s hand and told him he might grow it out again. Looked at Steve when he said that.

Billy’s roommates had left them, and a couple of hours had passed, so they decided to get something to eat.

Steve picked up the bill because he was doing a ‘swanky-ass internship’ as Billy put it.

“So you got some serious dough, then?” Billy asked.

Steve still couldn’t get over looking at him. He couldn’t get over the fact that he could see the full, round curve of Billy’s ears. Couldn’t get over the fact that Billy’s jaw was lined with coarse scruff. Couldn’t get over the blue depth of Billy’s eyes and the fact he had missed them for so long and still managed to convince himself they weren’t the most beautiful thing in the world.

“You could put it that way.” Steve laughed softly, biting into a bunch of fries.

“I should think so, with that square-ass suit.” Billy said.

Steve flushed, looked down at his rumpled, untailored suit that sagged everywhere on him. “Yeah.”

“It looks good.” Billy amended. “You look good.”

Steve glanced at Billy under his lashes as they ate, trying to determine the meaning in those words. Billy ignored him in favour of the food.

“Thanks. So do you.”

Billy cleared his throat as he swallowed. When he smiled at Steve, it was a little more timid than normal.

He took Billy back to his apartment.

“ _This_ is your place?” Billy’s neck was arched back as he swivelled around, which Steve thought was a little dramatic.

He laughed at Billy’s reaction. His place was nice, in part because of a very comfortable savings account set up by his parents at the age of ten. Also because of the money he made the year before he came out to California: at Family Video, at his dad’s company, and eventually at a branch who worked for his dad’s company, who were _also_ affiliated with the firm Steve is interning for now. It was a whole fucking thing.

It was less pay than the cushy job shuffling papers behind a desk for his dad, but Steve didn’t care. Money wasn’t the attraction. 

Steve collected some beers from his mini-fridge as Billy walked around in awe, spinning in circles like a little kid.

The apartment had a high ceiling and a minimalist kind of feel: basically, a lot of white space. Steve had tried to remove that modernist shit with bookshelves in every corner, picture frames lining the wall.

It might have cost a pretty penny, but he’d had oak-wood panels installed in too, for nothing more than to detract from the sheer amount of fucking _empty space_. He’d also bought plush leather sofas and spread them around the living area at random. Interior design wasn’t his thing: he just wanted the place to look lived in.

Hard to do with just one person who wasn’t home 10 hours a day, and when they were all they did was eat and sleep.

“Yeah, it’s pretty sweet.” Steve opened the beers up and held one out to Billy.

Billy glanced down in surprise before he took it. “You got someone buying you this stuff?”

“Better. Fake ID.” Steve explained. “The trick is the suit. Did it in jeans and got chased out the shop.”

Billy laughed, and then he eyed Steve before he turned to Steve’s expansive bookshelf. “You got someone splitting the rent on this thing then?”

“Nah. All on my lonesome.”

And wasn’t that truer than Steve would’ve liked to admit. The people at the internship were great, and Steve went out sometimes with them on the weekend, but it wasn’t the same.

The Party were all going to split up anyways: graduate and go off to colleges all across the world, travel the globe and celebrate their youth.

And Steve would get used to the people at his internship. He’d settle.

So what if he imagined he might bump into Billy at a bar with the other interns, and maybe suggested some of the student bars because the alcohol was cheaper? What’s that got to do with Steve’s obsessive re-decoration to make this place feel more like home?

Billy glanced at him for a brief second before he turned away again. “No? You not seeing anyone? Got a chick back in Hawkins or something?”

Steve took a sip of beer, let the cool foamy liquid pour down his throat. “Nope.” He hissed, smacked his lips. “Nobody.” He said at last. “You?”

Billy swivelled a little, hip jutted out, eyebrows raised. “Me? Nah.”

“Just – Ethan seemed a little put out. You guys …?” He ventured.

Billy laughed. “Yeh, poor kid’s got a crush on me.” He saw Steve’s expression and held his hands up. “Look I’ve told him, don’t worry, he’s too young. Well.” Billy made a face. “A year younger, but still.”

Steve felt as if a bag of worms had been let loose inside his gut. “But you – otherwise you’d be–” His throat closed over. He seriously hadn’t expected an affirmative answer.

“I mean, we met through the LGBT Society. You know, Lesbians, Gays, all that.” Billy said, wiggled his fingers in a strange imitation of jazz-hands. “That’s kinda how I’m rooming with them, actually.”

Steve could only stare, wordless. “You’re. You’re in the LGBT Society?”

Billy drank his beer, swallowed, and then nodded. His eyes were everywhere but Steve. “Yup.”

Steve grinned wide. “Billy, that’s amazing.”

Billy’s eyes were on him in an instant. “What?”

It didn’t matter to Steve why Billy was in the club, and what for. Steve felt as if he was bursting at the seams. “Billy, I’m so proud of you.”

Billy couldn’t seem to do anything but stare. “You’re…” He tried.

Steve let the laughter bubble out of him. “Proud. Yes. So fucking proud, Billy. Hawkins is as close-minded as a two-inch box. I’m so fucking glad you cut that homophobic shit out.”

Billy studied Steve’s face for a long moment. “I mean. Kinda hard to be homophobic when you’re gay.”

Steve felt all the blood rush to his head. _Act, act now_ , he screamed at himself, because he knew if he didn’t then this tentative trust with Billy would dissipate.

“You can be both.” He murmured. “But I’m glad you’re not.”

“Not what?”

“Homophobic. Cause … well, I’m bisexual.”

Billy had laid all the cards out so Steve did too. And he could tell Billy wasn’t expecting it. His eyes grew wide, shocked.

“Yeah?” Billy breathed.

Steve swallowed. Jesus, this was harder than it looked. “Yeah. So. I’m really fucking happy to hear you’re in a Society for us. Power to the People and all.” Steve raised a closed fist.

Billy laughed, loud and genuine, all his teeth on display. And he raised his fist too, some sort of giggle escaping if Steve didn't know better.

“Bi?” He finally asked, face glowing. “My, I never. With all those sweater vests? You’re kinda like the poster boy for Straight.”

Steve held his arms open. “Better believe it.”

Billy laughed again, and the sound was so lovely that Steve couldn’t hold it in any longer. He just couldn’t: it came bursting out.

“Billy, I.” Steve began. He started to sweat, and felt a bead roll down his temple. “I – I know you said you aren’t seeing anyone, and I dunno.” He coughed, looked down at where he fiddled with the label of his beer. “Maybe – you’re waiting on Ethan, or, I guess there’s plenty guys around LA –”

“What?” Billy’s voice was short, clipped.

“Would you wanna go on a date?” Steve blurted. His heart thudded against his ribcage, the base of his skull, backs of his ears.

Billy gave him an even, level stare. “Are you being serious?”

Steve felt the dampness along his spine. “I’m serious if you want me to be. Otherwise we can forget I said anything.”

Billy held his gaze. “Okay.”

Disappointment crashed through Steve. It was so swift and sudden, Steve felt tears come to his eyes. “Oh- okay.”

“No, I meant – okay to the date. Sure.” Billy gave a smile: it was more like a grimace.

That was worse. That was a lot fucking worse. Pity. Billy clearly pitied him.

Steve felt a tear slide down his cheek, and he shook his head and scrubbed it with the back of his hand. “You don’t have to, Billy, this was stupid –” He turned around.

“What?” Billy’s voice a dry rasp all of a sudden. “Why are you crying?”

“Because.” Steve closed his eyes. It was one thing to assume Billy could never want him because he was straight. It was another thing to be rejected by Billy even after finding out he was gay and single. “You don’t want this.”

“I never said that.”

“You might as well have.” Fresh tears came to his eyes, and Steve couldn’t hold them in. He sucked a breath. “It’s alright, it's fine. Honestly, Billy. It’s just what happens sometimes.”

There was a touch to his face. Steve blinked his eyes open to find Billy close, fingertips skimming Steve’s cheek, thumbing away the wetness. It was torture. Steve quickly closed his eyes again.

“Don’t. Please.” Steve croaked.

“Why?” Billy whispered.

This close, Steve could smell his warm breath, similar to that night nearly three years ago when Steve had backed him against a tree. Only Steve could also smell the cologne Billy wore now, spicy and dark. He could also feel the body heat coming off him in waves.

“Because this is too hard.” Steve murmured back. He kept his eyes closed; looking at Billy’s face would be worse.

“What is?”

“Being close to you. I thought I’d be able to handle it if you didn’t feel the same. But I want you too much, Billy.”

There was silence.

“Oh my Fucking God.” Billy breathed. He took Steve’s face in his hands, cradling it gently.

Steve opened his eyes. Billy’s gaze was stark and unblinking. Hope bloomed in Steve, filled him up right to the fingertips. He’d already confessed this much. Why not everything?

“I love you.” He said.

Billy froze.

And then he crashed their mouths together, pressed his whole body front-long against Steve and slid a thigh in-between Steve’s legs.

Steve gasped, arched up, bunched Billy’s t-shirt in his hands and opened his mouth. He welcomed Billy’s tongue, ran his hands up Billy’s sides and into his hair as Billy’s own hands gravitated from Steve’s face to his shoulders, neck, waist; scrambling to feel everything.

Kissing Billy was glorious and his mouth was plush and wet and he tasted like the burger he had eaten and the aftertaste of beer. That wasn’t the best part, no: the best was the fact that _Steve_ was tasting inside Billy’s mouth. He was the only one that knew how Billy tasted right now. It was enough to leave him light-headed and stupid. He ran his tongue along Billy’s teeth, his gums, and Billy groaned hard, the sound unlike anything Steve had ever heard from him.

Billy started to move his hips, just a little. Then Steve reached down and palmed his ass, practically lifted him off the floor to rub against Steve. Billy made more noises, huffed pants and breathless moans, and it was a few more minutes of frantic rutting before they were both close.

“Billy –” Steve tried, wet mouth pressed to his ear, but then Billy bucked hard and gave a punched little groan, shuddering in Steve’s arms.

It sent Steve over the edge.

They breathed against one another as they came down.

“What.” Steve gasped. “Why?”

“I thought you just asked me out cause you figured I was gay and, you know.” Billy pushed his forehead to Steve’s, eyes dark and tense. “Hung up on you. Easy prey.”

Steve blinked at this information, stunned. Billy watched. His gaze was unwavering. Every muscle in his body was taut.

Then Steve broke into a massive beam, so wide he felt it stretch his cheeks apart. “No. I was asking you out cause I’ve wanted to for nearly three years and never had the balls to. I figured it was now or never before Ethan snapped you up.”

Billy laughed, tilted his head back to do it because it was that loud. Then he looked back down. “You had no idea?” He asked. Steve loved him like this: bright-faced and bright-eyed, just this side of teasing but not really. _Happy_. This was Billy Hargrove happy. “No fucking idea I liked you?”

“No. You?”

“Not one iota.” Billy grinned with his teeth. “Well I mean, sometimes I.” He cleared his throat, seemed suddenly shy. “Kinda got a feeling, but I figured it was just –”

“Wishful thinking?” Steve finished.

Billy looked at him. And then he kissed Steve, gentle and slow, his hands holding onto Steve’s shoulders before moving along to cup his jaw. The way he held Steve was achingly soft.

Steve gave as good as he got, hands settling on Billy’s hips and pulling him snug inside the crook of Steve’s legs.

After they were done, they picked up their discarded beer. Billy had set his down on the floor when he came over to Steve; Steve hadn’t been so lucky. It had fallen out his limp fingers when Billy lunged, and most of its contents were on the floor.

“Don’t, leave it.” Steve said when Billy stepped in it and shot Steve a guilty look. “Come on.” Steve tugged on the hand currently clutched in his. Billy allowed himself to be pulled.

They crossed over to the couch. As soon as Billy started to lower, Steve pushed him back along the sofa and crawled on top of him.

They made out for a while: Steve explored Billy’s throat and ran a hand up underneath his t-shirt to splay against the heat of his skin. Billy reciprocated by squeezing his ass and biting any exposed skin he could find, including Steve’s bottom lip, his cheekbone, his chin, and his earlobe.

Steve was a giggly, breathless, drunken mess by the time Billy pushed him back, sat in his lap and rutted down on him.

They had barely even managed to shed half their clothes – Steve wrenched Billy’s shirt off; Billy yanked and tugged at his until Steve gave in and threw it off too. Then they kicked off their shoes and were left just in their jeans, until Billy unzipped Steve and reached inside. All it took was one squeeze before Steve was coming again.

He sunk his teeth into Billy’s bare shoulder and Billy gave an unmistakeably violent shudder.

“Fuck!” Billy panted, looked down at his crotch. There was an obvious wet spot. “Again!”

Steve gentled him with stroking hands along his back, kissed an apology onto his eyebrow. “Sorry.”

“No – _shit_.” Billy cursed, and pressed his forehead against Steve’s. Steve could feel the hard weight of his head against him. “I’m just usually better at lasting. _Fuck_.”

Billy was flushed, ears hot, embarrassed. Clearly this wasn't how his usual trysts in the bedroom went.

Steve didn’t want to hear about Billy’s sex-life. Billy was his own person, free and unattached, but Steve still couldn’t help tighten his hold on Billy. He didn’t know what Billy had done since he left Hawkins and was content to never find out.

So Steve sank a hand into Billy’s newly cropped hair, scratched the base of his skull. “Me too.” He murmured. “But its you.” Steve pulled Billy’s head back slowly, brought it forward to bump in an imitation of their headbutt.

Billy’s grin was sparkling. “Yeah.”

Billy hadn’t actually said one word to hint at any feelings for Steve, hint at loving Steve back, but it could wait. Billy had a difficulty with words at the best of times: not with understanding them, but with expressing them. Steve knew it was because of his piece of shit dad and his whole shitty upbringing and maybe his mother who he never mentioned or told Steve anything about.

But the fact that he hadn’t told Steve anything was enough of a hint. Steve didn’t need to know if she was dead or gone or something else. When Billy was ready, he would say. It took a full two years and a lot of trust building for Billy to admit it one night carelessly over pizza. _Oh, yeah, just from when my dad used to beat me up, but I’m staying with Hop now since the whole Mind Fucker Flayer Thing. Some Russians after me or something._

Steve was the first person Billy had told about his dad. But not the last.

“You know, the first time.” Billy started. Steve blinked back to Billy in his arms, Billy's own arms draping along Steve’s shoulders and resettling his weight more firmly in Steve’s lap. “When I did this?" He pointed between their mouthes. "I didn’t fucking realise. I was so fucking shocked at the Demogorgon I didn’t even realise I’d kissed you. I figured you were gonna hit me. Hence the headbutt. Evened it out.” He chuckled, a dry sound.

Steve reached up and brushed the pad of his thumb across Billy’s forehead. Billy’s eyelids fluttered. “No. I liked it. All of it.” He grinned.

“I thought.” Billy swallowed. “That time when you didn’t do the routine, you were makin’ fun of me. You knew I was into you and wanted to joke about it.” Billy did this thing when he was nervous: he tensed up so hard it was as though he were preparing for a fight.

Steve shook his head. “No.” His heart felt heavy in his chest. That Billy thought all that of him – thought Steve so ready to discard him or hurt him at moment.

It had been taught to Billy, and Steve intended for Billy to unlearn it.

“No, Billy. I wanted to kiss you. I just didn’t want to do it because of the Upside Down anymore, I didn’t want it to be a joke. I wanted to ask you out properly. Fancy dinner, expensive wine, the whole fucking shebang.”

Billy stared at him, eyes dark and focused. “How long you wanted this?”

Steve looked down. He supposed that last sentence gave a lot away. “Three years.” He admitted. “Since you came back from … you know. Starcourt.”

Billy suddenly pressed his chest to Steve’s – he'd pulled back to speak to Steve, but now he buried his face into Steve’s shoulder, arms tightening in something freakishly close to a _hug_.

Steve had never witnessed such an affectionate display from Billy. So he wrapped his arms around Billy’s back and smiled.

“How long, for you?” He asked, curious.

Billy was silent. Then he pulled back, apprehensive. His eyes didn’t meet Steve’s. “I dunno. Kinda always.” He shrugged.

Steve knew it took a lot for Billy to give up even that much. So he palmed Billy’s face and said, “Well, that makes me really happy.”

Billy rolled his eyes. “I’m not a little kid Steve. I know what you’re doing.” He huffed, eyes darting around. “It’s just – hard to. Put … into words.”

Billy’s jaw was clenched, his nostrils flared. Even that one sentence sounded as though it had been forcibly taken out of him.

Steve took Billy’s face into both hands. “Well, show me then.”

Billy grinned a little wider.

*

When Steve plucks up the nerve, it’s a Saturday afternoon and he has nothing else to do. At least that’s what he tells himself.

He knows the landline by heart. She’s only a couple blocks away: she’d moved out here two months ago.

“Yup?” Max says.

Steve swallows. “Hey Max –”

“Oh, look who decided to call!” Max shouts. “Why is your boyfriend sleeping on my couch and eating all my chips and being depressed?”

“He’s not –” _my boyfriend,_ Steve was about to fill in, until: “Wait, depressed?” 

“Yes idiot. What happened? I can’t get a word out of him.”

“How is he?” Steve presses.

“You know he’d skin me alive if I said.”

“Max, please.” Steve begs. “I still don’t understand what the fuck even happened, he cleared out all his stuff and told me it’s over because he’s moved on, so any insight would be – really fucking appreciated.” He presses fingers into his burning eyes halfway through. Hopefully Max will ignore the way his voice broke at the end.

“Well that’s a bag of balls.” Max says. “He’s miserable. He lies around and does nothing all day. He’s missed three lectures already. Whatever you did, it’s bad Steve.”

“Wh– I don’t _know_ what I did, three weeks ago he tells me over breakfast he’s done, he’s over me and that’s it.” Steve knows his voice goes brittle and thin, on the brink of a snap, but he can’t seem to control it. “I’ve asked him, I asked a _million_ times Max, but he packed up his stuff and left in about ten minutes, I fucking ran out onto the street – ”

Steve cuts off, but not by choice. His throat closes over.

Max breathes on the other end. Steve breathes with her.

“I don’t know. Let me try talk to him and call you back.” Max says.

Steve sags, and some tension bleeds away from him.

“Thank you.” He closes his eyes as hard as possible. “Look. He’s not …” Steve squares his shoulders, straightens his spine. “He hasn’t met anyone, has he?”

Max scoffs. “What, and he’s been ignoring them for two weeks? Steve: he’s miserable.”

“Right.” Steve takes his first proper inhale in three weeks. “Okay.”

Max will talk to him. Things will be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *LGBTQAI, but I doubt Billy would say that! ♥️♥️


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This entire fic has been titled 'billy breakup' on a word doc I essentially battered out in a week. In other news, this is a lot of dialogue and finally some communication, so I hope you enjoy! This entire story is literally in service to my adoration for break up/make up fics. I have linked the fic that inspired this one (not harringrove, but I read it despite not knowing who the characters even were it is that good) and it should be on the first chapter!

When Steve sees Billy next, it’s the day after the phone call with Max. Billy actually knocks this time instead of just letting himself in.

Well. ‘Knock’ is a pretty subjective word. Pummel might be more accurate.

Steve jerks up in bed, fumbles for the clock at his bedside, and squints at the time.

7:09 AM. It’s a Sunday.

Steve rolls out of bed, shoves a hand through his hair, and pads over to the front door. It’s either a delivery he’s forgotten about or an extremely misguided neighbour who thinks he’s somehow awake at this time.

When he opens up, he’s faced with a flushed Billy Hargrove, fist raised and jaw clenched.

Steve blinks. He’s half asleep, clad in long pyjama pants and absolutely nothing else. His bafflement overtakes any embarrassment about the situation.

“Hey.” Billy states. His arm falls still fisted at his side. His cheeks are red, ears red, nose red. He’s either been running or he’s mortified. Or both.

Steve blinks again. “Uh.” He manages, throat dry. The embarrassment is steadily rising, and Steve scratches his chest for something to do. Also to cover it a little.

“Can I come in?” Billy avoids his gaze.

Hope leaps up in Steve’s throat along with his pulse. Did Max speak to him? Did she get through to him? Steve steps back quickly, fumbling to close the door when Billy comes through.

Steve turns around. His chest is tight, throat tight, every muscle tense.

Billy coughs and gazes around the living room. “Yeah. So whatever Max said last night is bullshit, just by the way.”

Steve stares. “What?”

Billy crosses his arms and focuses on Steve’s elbow. “Yeah.”

Steve frowns. He steps closer. “Billy, she didn’t … _say_ anything. I just phoned to check in.”

It’s the partial truth. Steve did want to check in, but he’s a selfish asshole and he was checking in on Billy, not Max. Not Max, who moved out here because they sold it to her specifically so she’d come out. Not Max, who’s only been here a couple months and still is finding her feet.

He’ll apologise to her later; this takes priority.

Because Billy is freaked out that Max said he’s been miserable? That she said he’s been lazing around and sleeping on her couch?

It’s barely anything and only makes Steve feels fractionally better about being a total and complete mess. 

Billy’s gone and uprooted _both_ of their lives, the lives they built and made here, the lives they lived happily for almost a year.

The least Steve expects Billy to feel is fucking _sad_ about it. To be doing the post break-up routine of feeling shitty and low. Steve’s dumped and been dumped enough times to be familiar with the low of it.

He knows the guilt over breaking somebody’s heart.

Which Billy _should_ fucking feel, because he knows he did.

Billy finally meets his eyes, confused. “She didn’t say–” He frowns, cuts off. “But we just. She.” He cuts off, then sighs long and slow. “Right. Never mind.”

He waves a hand and moves as if to go.

Steve grabs his arm. “Hey.”

Billy pauses. He looks down at Steve’s hand. He still avoids Steve’s eye.

“What, you won’t look at me now?” Steve asks.

Billy huffs, throat bobbing as he swallows. “Steve, come on, you’re half-naked.”

“Nothing you haven’t seen before.” Steve quips.

Billy settles his gaze on Steve. “Not the same. We’re broke up. I’m not interested in looking.”

Billy seems to hear the words at the same time Steve does. Steve sees Billy’s eyes widen even as he feels the full force of those words hit him in the chest.

He lets Billy go, cold all over. “Is. Is that what this is about?”

“Steve, no, that came out bad.” Billy says, reaching out the way he used to.

Steve steps away, eyes on the floor. “What, you. You’re not attracted to me anymore?”

“ _No!_ Shit, Steve, that’s not the reason –”

Okay, okay, okay. Steve can be a man about this. It’s normal. It happens. He swallows the sick feeling in his throat and looks up. “I mean, I can starting working out again.”

Billy looks pained, utterly pained, hunched over, expression tight. “Steve –”

“Or weight? I can lose weight. If that’s the problem.”

Steve pushes aside the hurt and focuses on the now – pushes aside _Pretty Boy_ and _you know you’re freakishly beautiful, don’t tell anyone I said that_ – and takes a breath.

Billy runs both hands through his hair. His features are all scrunched tight. He looks close to tears. Steve’s never seen Billy cry before – he’s seen Billy upset, but never like this.

Bingo. This has got to be it. Billy clearly felt like he couldn’t say.

Steve wraps arms around his naked waist, all to aware of it being on display, and tries for a comforting smile despite the pain all over his body. “Look, you could have just talked to me about this, I know I missed a couple morning runs but I can get back in shape –”

Billy storms right up to him and takes him by the shoulders, fingers crushing in. “Steve.” His voice is rough. “You’re fucking perfect. Okay?”

Steve blinks. His mouth parts.

Billy shakes him. “Okay? Yes?” He says. “Don’t lose anything. Not one fucking pound, I swear to God.”

Steve doesn’t say anything.

“Steve! You’re _perfect_ , right –”

Steve lifts a hand and touches Billy’s face gently.

Half of him expects to be rebuffed. To experience the same Billy that shouldered Steve off as he was leaving nearly a month ago. The Billy who, no matter how much Steve grabbed and yanked and clung, deflected his every touch.

But Billy doesn’t shove him off.

Billy grabs Steve’s wrist and presses Steve’s hand to his face, turns his head and kisses the inside of Steve’s palm.

Relief explodes in every corner of Steve. He pulls Billy down and kisses him.

Billy jolts, startled. Then he’s kissing back hard and biting and bruising. Steve just buries his hands in Billy’s hair and gives back just as good, just as hard and painful.

Until Billy rips away.

Steve clutches empty air as Billy bolts out the door and disappears.

*

“Okay, it’s worse.”

“Max, I feel like I’m losing my mind.” Steve says, plain and simple as way of hello. “Did he tell you what happened?”

“No.” Max says. “Steve he’s at some bar. He called me three hours ago and won't pick up now at all.”

Steve feels his heart drop like a stone. “Oh.”

So what had the kiss been? Pity? Confusion?

“Steve Harrington, fix my fucking brother.” Max says, her voice hard and a lot less friendly than yesterday. “He’s spiralling. I’m worried about him.”

“I didn’t do this, Max.” Steve states. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You clearly did freaking _something_ , Steve, so strap on your balls and talk to him.”

She hangs up before Steve can reply.

Steve thinks about her words. Nothing makes sense; none of it makes sense. He wallows with a bag of Cheetos for an hour before he sucks up his pride, heart, and everything else.

He calls Billy. It rings out, out, out, and then cuts off with a soft snick and the beep of the voicemail. "Hey. It's me. Can we talk? Okay." Steve states, short and curt.

Two hours pass without a reply.

Steve tries again. And again; voicemail. "Hey, just checking in." Steve starts. "I miss you."

Steve regrets it immediately. He cuts off without a goodbye. When he wakes up the morning, there’s still no call back. Steve must total about 3 hours sleep by waiting for one.

*

Steve comes home from work, walks into his bedroom, and finds Billy with one of Steve’s t-shirts pressed to his face.

Steve freezes, silent.

Billy inhales slowly, eyes closed. Then he pulls it away and folds it up, placing it on Steve’s pillow where Steve left it.

Steve watches without breathing. He fights the urge to rush inside and just body tackle Billy onto the bed. Warmth spills into the very edges of Steve, a warmth that had receded until it was only a small ball he carried around desperately trying to keep alive.

Now Steve wonders if maybe, possibly, he’s fucked up. Somehow.

Hope is only second to terror. A bone-cold fear. _What the fuck have I done?_

Steve doubts this is the behaviour of somebody that’s moved on. So Billy is still in love with him. He must be. He’s got to be. The question is, _why the fuck did he break it off?_

Steve takes careful steps backwards. Once he’s at the front door, he opens it and slams it shut, then stomps around in the living room.

Billy darts out in a second.

“Oh.” Steve looks up, tries to appear surprised.

“You’re early?” Billy poses it as a question.

“Yeah. I closed a case so they let me off.” Steve says. “Why you here?”

“I lost one of my shirts, so I thought it might be here. It’s not.”

Steve studies Billy’s face. It’s impassive, expressionless. It’s lying. This is Billy lying. He’s lying right to Steve’s face and it’s as easy as breathing.

Steve’s always known Billy’s a good liar, a good actor. But being faced with it is an entirely different story. He wouldn’t even be able to tell the difference between this and the truth coming out Billy’s mouth.

It’s frightening. People have tells, people have little things, even if they’re trained in lying.

Billy has none. It’s like watching a professional.

Steve remembers the way Billy said _let’s break up,_ tonelessly and without humour, over breakfast. Remembers the way Billy said _because I’m over this, Steve, okay, I’m over it._

Remembers the way it was so real and so serious Steve could nothing but believe it.

“Right.” Steve says. His voice is uneven and rough, so he walks into the kitchen. His heart thumps against his throat.

Billy is lying now.

Was he lying then too?

“I better go.” Billy says and walks across the living room.

“Did you get my voicemail?” Steve calls out.

Billy stops. He clears his throat. “Yeah.”

Steve fills two glasses of water. He comes out and hands one to Billy. Then he gestures toward the sofa.

Billy looks at Steve warily. He sits. He takes a sip.

“I just want to talk.” Steve tries, but Billy’s heckles are already up.

“Right.” Billy states.

Steve takes a sip of water too. “Why do you keep coming over?” He tries, tentative.

“Because I’ve _left shit,_ Steve, I told you –” Billy bites out.

 _Wrong way to start, wrong way to start_ , Steve thinks. “Right, yeah, of course.” He cuts Billy off quickly.

Christ, he _knows_ Billy better than this. That was all attack, even Steve would get defensive. Think. _Think_. How to get Billy to talk? Billy won’t give anything unless he’s received something first. Steve is going to need to give something up.

“You know.” Steve begins, voice gentle. “I miss you all the time. I miss talking to you.” _I miss holding you fucking you sleeping with you cooking with you arguing with you loving you._

Billy stares at the rim of his glass. He swallows so thickly his throat clicks, breathes for a moment. Steve thinks he won’t reply, until he murmurs, “I … miss you too.”

Good. Good. This is looking good. Steve can get to the root of this. He can feel the bony surface of it already; all he needs to do is crack it open and dig.

“I think about you all the time.” Steve continues.

And Billy’s shoulders curl inward, and Steve thinks _maybe, maybe_ , opens his mouth again.

“Look, I don’t need this.” Billy sets his glass down and starts to leave.

“Wh – no, Billy –” Steve stands up too.

Billy is crossing the room in long, intentional strides.

“I – I smell all your shirts, I’ve kept them so I can smell them!”

Billy stops.

He turns around. “What?”

“That’s probably why you can’t find the rest of your stuff.” Steve explains quickly, face hot, holding onto the momentum before the embarrassment rushes in. “I’ve hid them in your pillowcase.”

Billy stares for a beat. Then he marches over to Steve’s bedroom.

Steve waits.

Billy marches back out with his shirts clutched in a fist. He opens his mouth, but closes it quickly. He looks at the shirts and then back Steve. His face is flushed, ears red. “Why?”

Steve senses this is important. He feels the weight of this moment press down on him.

This answer means something to Billy. So Steve tells the truth.

“Because maybe you don’t want to hear it.” Steve shrugs. “But you’re the love of my life, Billy. And I need to keep any part of you I can. Because if its everything ... I mean if it’s literally every single part of you that goes, I just. I think it’ll kill me. I really do think it’ll kill me.”

Billy’s eyes are hard, focused. Then he turns around so that his back faces Steve. His shirts are held in a tight grip.

“I thought.” He speaks to the wall in a dry rasp.

Steve takes a step forward, silent.

“I …” Billy stops. “I don’t get it.”

“What don’t you understand?” Steve whispers. They’re here, they’ve made it: Steve has managed to rip it up and find the source.

Billy swallows. “Look.” He starts, and his voice is clipped. “Not that I care or anything. I don’t. But I thought you were. You wanted to settle down with a chick.”

Steve creeps another couple inches closer. “Why? Why would you think that?”

“Cause you.” Billy doesn’t notice Steve getting closer or he’s too absorbed. Either way, Steve is close enough to see Billy’s face. His eyes are squinted at his shirt, expression unreadable. His shoulders are practically up at his ears.

“You were – joking, and shit, when Dustin came over. A wife and a lawn and a white fence. Somebody to cook and clean or whatever.”

Steve desperately scrambles his brain for the moment and finds it in the rubble within seconds – Dustin laughing as Steve prepared them dinner, Billy was getting a shower and not helping at all, and Steve had said –

 _This is why I’m settling down with a women. Honestly, a wife and a lawn and a white fence. That’s the dream, right? Somebody to do the cooking and the cleaning_ for _you._

The realisation sinks like a stone inside Steve.

“That’s what I thought.” Billy shrugs jerkily. “So.”

“Billy.” Steve barely gets the word out. “It was just a joke. It was a terrible, terrible joke. It was the worst joke ever made. I didn’t mean – I didn’t mean a _single_ word.”

Billy doesn’t move. Then he shifts his head, just slightly, so he meets Steve’s eyes.

“Billy.” Steve is swamped with grief. He looks at Billy’s face and realises that it was his fault: that he did this to them.

“You mean it?” Billy asks. “That – I’m the love of your life, or whatever?” His voice is rough.

“Billy.” Steve says a final time and takes Billy’s face into his hands. “I don’t even know how to– _yes_. Of course you are. I’ve loved you since I was seventeen. I’m sleeping on the couch because I can’t sleep in our bed without you. I’m tearing my hair out and I’m crying into my fucking cereal every morning.”

Billy coughs a laugh, wet and startled, blinking eyes and looking over the top of Steve’s head to avoid his gaze.

“I’m never, _ever_ telling a joke again.” Steve states.

Billy laughs a little louder, head bowed. Steve laughs too.

Then Billy sobers. His eyes focus on Steve’s. “It was really just a joke?”

“Worst joke ever made.” Steve assures.

“Why didn’t…” Billy’s hands settle on his waist, his shirts still clenched. Steve’s heart sings so loud there’s a buzzing in his ears. “Why didn’t you say it when I was in the room? Cause it made it seem … like –”

“Dustin was joking that I was the wife in the relationship, so I joked back maybe that’s what I need. A wife to cook and clean.” Steve trips over himself to explain, strokes Billy’s face. “Billy, if I knew you’d think I was serious I _never_ would have said it. I never would have thought it. It was the most bullshit joke I could think of and I knew Dustin would laugh because it’s total bullshit. He knows I’m settled with you. He knows I’m never leaving you for anyone. _That’s_ the joke. It’s the dream for some people, a wife who cleans, but not me. This is my dream.” Steve runs his hands along Billy’s neck to link behind his head.

Billy stares at his own hands on Steve’s waist. “Just. When I said we should break up, you just got angry. I figured you were pissed I beat you to it.”

Steve swallows the stinging in his throat. “No. No. At first I thought it was a prank. It didn’t really sink in until you didn’t come home that night. Billy – I was worried sick out my fucking mind. You told me not to call so I didn’t know what the fuck to do. I basically sat by the door for a week until I realised you weren’t coming back.”

Billy drops the shirts and cups Steve’s cheek. He rests their foreheads together, and that familiar act of feeling the solid weight of Billy’s head against his seems to make the moment more real. Steve realises it’s happening, it’s actually happening: they’re making up.

“Maybe … I went too hard on acting like I didn’t give a shit.” Billy murmurs, his thumb swiping along Steve’s cheek. “I just didn’t want to look at you when I thought … it had meant nothing. You had always planned to end it at some point.”

“Never. Literally never.” Steve says.

Billy swallows. “I know, I – it didn’t make any sense.” His voice and rough and low, frowning at Steve’s nose. “When I came home for my stuff you were so sharp I guess I just thought. Maybe you had a wounded ego, I dunno. I kept finding ways for it to make sense. And then I’d remember that night and how you touched my knee, or kissed my head, and thought, _Jesus, he’s a better actor than me. I need to put on the best act of my life tomorrow_.”

“None of it was an act.” Steve says. “I meant everything I did with you, Billy. Everything I ever said. I just made a dumb, shitty joke.”

Billy finally meets his eyes. The blue of them shines. “Fuck.” He whispers. “I’m an idiot. I’m so fuckin’ sorry Stevie.”

Steve pulls Billy down into a tight embrace, holds Billy with everything he has. He feels Billy bury his face into Steve’s shoulder and Steve does the same: takes in great, greedy lungful’s of his smell and his nearness and his heat.

“I’m an idiot too.” Steve whispers thickly. “It was nobody’s fault. I should have done this all differently. I should have told you all this the minute you wanted to break up. And I _never_ should have joked like that, I never should have said it. It was shitty and terrible and if I’d heard it I would feel like total shit.”

Billy relaxes in his arms. Steve didn’t even notice he’d been tense until then. “So – you don’t think I’m an asshole that can’t take a joke?” Billy tries a laugh, dark and warm. The sound of Billy’s voice so close to him is like music.

“No.” Steve says. “I think I’m probably the world’s biggest dick.”

“Steady on, Harrington, a bit overconfident there.”

Steve laughs loud. It feels good, it feels freeing: like letting tension and pain out his mouth. Billy pulls away grinning.

Steve can’t resist him, tilts up to kiss.

Billy stops him with fingers pressed to Steve’s mouth.

“This is us back together?” He whispers.

Steve blinks, searches Billy’s face, then he nods.

“Exactly the way it was?” Billy asks, face serious. “I move back in and we’re back the way we were?”

Steve takes Billy’s hand. “Yes.” He kisses Billy’s knuckles. “Though I have one condition.”

Billy’s blue eyes are unwavering. He waits.

“You talk to me.” Steve states. “You never run like that again. And I promise I’ll do the same. I should have asked more questions when you were leaving, but.” Steve swallows, self-conscious. “I was scared maybe you’d met someone, that’s why. I was too chicken shit to say it would fucking kill me. So I just shouted and threw shit and went about it all _wrong_.” Steve huffs out a frustrated breath, looks up and squeezes Billy’s hand. “But never again. All cards on the table, right?”

“All cards on the table?” Billy asks with a shy smile. “Okay then. Wanna know why I kept coming over?”

Steve already knows, and doesn’t want to force anything out of Billy that he doesn’t want to give. But then, Billy so rarely offers something up for free that Steve blinks. “Why?”

“Cause I missed you so bad some nights it got to the point I’d say fuck, anything would do.” Billy grins. “A fucking – _scrap_ of you.” He chuckles. “Was gonna say we could be friends even though I knew I’d die inside when you said yeah.”

Steve runs a hand through Billy’s curls. “I don’t want to be friends.” Steve whispers. “I don’t even want to be boyfriends. Not after what just happened. I want – I want to be partners, husbands, everything, Billy.”

Billy stares at him, speechless. “Did. Did you just fucking propose?”

Steve’s head is hot. He doesn’t blink. “Uh.”

Billy bends low and kisses him soundly.

It starts off slow; Billy is gentle and tender and Steve really tries to keep it soft, tries to will his hands to stop roaming and just hold. But then Billy opens his mouth and the kiss is hot and wet and Steve’s breath kicks up until Billy spins him and walks him to the wall.

And Billy is bearing down on him, really pressing in hard, hands going underneath Steve’s t-shirt and teeth sucking on Steve’s lower lip, a thigh going between Steve’s legs and his whole weight against Steve. Steve is shuddering apart in minutes, barely having touched anyone in almost a month, barely having touched _himself_ which is fucking embarrassing to admit.

Steve pulls away to gasp for breath and Billy reroutes to his throat, sucking the skin the same way he’d done seconds ago, until Steve feels the heel of a palm press against his crotch and he groans, fingers tightening into the meat of Billy’s back. Billy only has to give a fumbled rub before Steve is done.

He shakes all over and Billy pulls back from his throat to look at Steve’s face. The Steve turns them around so Billy is pressed to the wall.

Steve drops to his knees.

He’s only just unzipped Billy’s jeans and pulled him out before Billy jerks, once, and comes over Steve’s chin.

Steve stands up and kisses him, uncaring of the mess. Billy doesn’t seem to care either – unbuttoning Steve’s shirt while Steve yanks Billy’s jeans off bit by bit, until they’re laughing and jumping around half-dressed.

“You always do that,” Steve laughs, wiping his chin with the back of his hand, “You’re always interrupting me in the middle of a conversation!”

“Wh– you just _proposed!”_ Billy laughs back, thumbing Steve’s chin as well, eyes bright. “I think? Shittiest fucking proposal if I don’t even know –”

“Oh yeah?” Steve drags him in and their bare chests slap together. “That your answer?”

“Fucker.” Billy smacks a kiss onto his mouth so hard Steve’s neck is pushed back. “You know it’s a yes. Been waitin’ for you to ask.”

Steve’s heart leaps. “Good. Been planning to.”

Billy looks at him. “Yeah?”

Steve nods. “Mm-hm.” He hums, just to be an ass. “Was gonna do it on our anniversary. Real romantic like.”

“Still can.” Billy’s cheeks are pink, happy. “It’s a couple weeks away.”

“As if I don’t know, idiot. Why d’you think I didn’t cancel the freakin’ ring-sizing appointment?” Steve tugs on a curl of Billy’s hair. “Wanted us to pick them out together. Was waiting to see if you’d still be up for it.” Steve dimples sweetly at him.

Billy does that thing where he interrupts Steve again, energetically and with no room for discussion. Thankfully, they manage to make it to the bedroom this time.

They take the time to reacquaint themselves, even though they knock heads together more than twice in their eagerness. But soon it’s as familiar as breathing and Steve gets over the nerves and the newness pretty quickly when he remembers that they’ve done this a million times, that they’ll do it a million more.

They lie in a pool of their own sweat, Steve on top so he can feel the thump of both their hearts into one another.

“So.” Steve rests his chin on his folded hands. “You wear a white tux, I wear a black one?”

Billy’s nose scrunches up. “A _white_ tux?” He can’t wipe his smile though. “Tacky, Steve.”

“Don’t spoil my fantasy.” Steve closes his eyes.

A hand lands on top of his head. Steve opens his eyes to find Billy’s on him, long fingers stroking through Steve’s hair.

“If I’m in white, am I the bride?” Billy grins wide and charming. But Steve notices the tension in the lines around his eyes.

“No.” Steve murmurs. “You’re gonna be Mr. Fucking Harrington. It could be at the registry office down the street in jeans for all I care. It can be in L.A. or it can be in Hawaii or it can be in Australia or Poland or Egypt or Scotland. As long as it’s you.”

Billy studies him for a beat. Despite Steve’s words, his smile fades, his eyes serious. “I guess I just don’t get it.” He admits. “Wouldn’t … I mean, you’re bi Steve. You could marry a chick. It’d be easier.”

“So could you.” Steve states.

Billy huffs. “That’s not … it’s not the same.”

“How come?”

Billy stares at him. “Cause I’m pretty sure she’s gonna ask when we get to the bedroom why I’m not in the least bit fucking interested.”

“So you’re only with me for the sex?” Steve asks.

Billy’s mouth parts, eyes flitting over Steve’s face. “No? Course not.” There’s a furrow between his brows, as if he’s getting whiplash from this conversation.

“Why you with me then?” Steve slides over so he’s pressed to Billy’s side. He throws a leg over Billy, hooks his ankle around Billy’s thigh so there’s no chance of escape.

Billy shifts around a little, blinking at Steve sideways on the pillow. “I.” He starts softly. “Because.”

Steve waits, picks up Billy’s hand and plays with the fingers.

“You’re the only person I want.” Billy states.

Steve smiles. He feels the focus of Billy’s eyes on him, but Steve lines their palms up and links their fingers.

“That’s how I feel about you.” Steve says to their hands. “I don’t want anyone that isn’t you. I’ll never want that. I only –”

And then something bolts through Steve. He wonders how he didn’t put two and two together before.

He sees Billy at the kitchen doorway, _I’m good you know._ He realises Billy wasn’t trying to goad Steve or hurt Steve or frustrate Steve. He was trying to …

And Steve just nodded, as if he didn’t care.

_You seeing anyone yet?_

What had Steve said? _I’m not having this conversation._ He hadn’t said _of course not, I’ll never find anyone better than you._

Regret slams through Steve so hard he sits up a little.

If he’d just _paid more attention_ , Steve would’ve seen Billy clear as day.

He’d have seen that Billy was only telling Steve he was fine because he didn’t want Steve to feel guilty. He was saying, _I’m good, it’s okay, you can go out and find that girl you said you wanted._

He’d have seen that Billy was only pressing him with questions about seeing anyone because he was looking for the confirmation, or maybe he was hoping for a denial. And all Steve said was _I’m not talking about this._ He practically gave Billy the perfect material to agonise over.

“Steve?” Billy asks.

Steve looks down. Billy props himself up on an elbow to be closer to Steve’s face. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Steve says, and flicks Billy’s nose, who blinks and looks a bit put out, which is an adorable expression.

“I just didn’t understand you before.” Steve says. “I literally couldn’t make sense of how you could go from loving me to not even giving a shit. But now I do.” He leans down and kisses Billy’s eyebrow. “You’re kind of a dumbass, though.”

Billy frowns. “Okay, I’m totally fuckin’ lost. Can you stick to one topic? I think we established I give a shit, Steve.”

“But you pretended like you didn’t. So I would feel okay about not giving a shit too. So I would tell you how I really felt. So I would say that I was never serious about this, that I planned on settling with a girl and ending it with you the whole time.” Steve raises his brows. “You tried to call my bluff.”

Billy looks away, swallows once.

“Busted.” Steve says.

“Not.” Billy starts. “It’s not the only reason … why I pretended not to give a shit.”

Steve tilts his head. “What do you mean?”

Billy reaches out and circles Steve’s nipple with a fingertip. “Look, I just know that when someone decides to leave, there’s no point tryna beg and plead.” He stares at Steve’s chest. “If I asked you, and you told me you were leaving, I knew I’d freak the fuck out. And I’d probably say all this garbage and get all – fuckin’ emotional and whatever. But I know none of that works. Cause – my mom left when I was ten, and I tried all that shit back then too.”

Steve stares at Billy. Billy runs his finger down along Steve’s belly.

“Keep going.” Steve urges softly.

Billy shrugs. “Not much else to say. Just.” His chest inflates as he breathes. “You know, no matter how hard you try it don’t make a difference. If someone wants to leave, they’ve made up their mind about it. It’s not like telling them shit they already know would help. It’s not like promising to be better and telling them you love them and you’ll do anything they want is gonna work.”

Steve swallows and blinks quick so the burn of his eyes doesn’t escape.

“I told myself I’d never do that again.” Billy states, voice lowering. “I’d never beg someone to stay. If they’re leaving, that’s it. Good riddance. Go. I don’t fuckin’ care.” Billy spreads his hand over Steve’s hip, thumbing the bone. “Even if it’s actually tearing me up inside.”

Steve pulls Billy into the circle of his arms and presses his nose to Billy’s hair.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Steve says.

“I know.” Billy says simply, his hands hot and wide on Steve’s naked back as he wraps his arms around Steve. “I think I’ve always kinda known it.”

Steve squeezes his eyes shut. “Then why –”

“Cause the idea you’d want to settle down with a girl always sorta played in the back of my head.” Billy says. “Your parents would be happier, you know. They’d probably come visit you a lot more. You’d get to introduce your girl at work and everyone would stop teasing you about being single. Life would just be better. And you’d be happy. It’s not like you’re gay. You’re not like me, Steve, you could _have_ something with a girl.”

Steve opens his mouth.

“Just.” Billy tightens his hold. “Look. It’s facts: life would be better for you. And when you joked about it, part of me kinda knew it was joke. But the other part just fuckin’ screamed that it had to be true cause you were right. It’s the All American Dream, a wife and kids. And – if just 1% of you wanted that I knew you’d leave eventually. So I just put on this act. Maybe cus’ I wasn’t going to let you break it off all gentle and forget everything that happened with my mom by crying at your fuckin’ feet. But also cus’ I thought maybe you’d be happier that way.”

Steve strokes the back of Billy’s head. “Nothing makes me happier than you, Billy.” He states. “I wouldn’t even know how to love anyone like I love you. And I don’t give a shit about my parents and the guys at work. You, Max, the Party – _that’s_ my family. I’m never going to find another one or decide I don’t want this. I’ll do everything I can for the rest of my life to show you that.”

Billy pulls away. His expression is soft, eyes gentle. “I know.” He takes both of Steve’s hands in his and squeezes them.

“But I’ll prove it.”

Billy suddenly laughs. “Steve, you already have. I _know_. I do, I promise. I know cause you came out to L.A. and took a job three seconds from my college and told me to move in with you the day after our first fuckin’ date. I know cause that night I got pissed at you at the club and switched my phone off and walked home you were already waiting for me. You were so out of breath.” Billy laughs, eyes bright. “I remember I saw you on the porch and I thought, _fuck, he really does love me._ And I know cause you proof-read all my essays even though you’ve not got a clue what’s going on and sign the fucking feedback _your boyfriend_. I know it, in my fucking guts I know it.” Billy takes their hands and presses them to his stomach. “Okay? It’s just.” Billy takes their hands and taps them against his head. “This.”

Steve kisses Billy’s forehead. “Well I’ll convince that then. At least some part of you believes me.”

“Oh yeah.” Billy says. “The guts are all yours at this point. Diarrhoea every fucking day after we split.”

Steve laughs so hard it shakes the bed. “Such a freaking romantic! Aren’t you supposed to say I own your heart, huh?”

“Nah, you get the intestines.”

Steve laughs again, and Billy rolls over on top of him.

“You get the intestines and the balls if you want them.” Billy grins down at him.

“I’ll take them.” Steve kisses Billy’s bare teeth. “Though should I be concerned about who’s got the heart?”

Billy rolls his eyes. “Shut the fuck up, you’ve had it since day one.”

Steve gapes. Billy face flushes maroon.

“That’s the cheesiest fucking thing you’ve ever said!” Steve cries with glee, and Billy gets a glint in his eye as though he’s about to attack, so Steve rolls away and grabs a pillow for protection.

“Oh my God!” Steve holds the pillow over his face. “And usually I’m the one with –”

Billy picks up a pillow and smacks Steve’s shield with it.

“Oh, you wanna do this?” Steve holds his pillow mid-air and peeks over it. “Really?”

Billy’s grin is manic, eyes crazed.

Steve descends with a cry of war, and Billy’s laughter fills the room.

*

When Steve wakes up in the morning he blinks fuzzily. At first it’s almost as if a bomb has gone off in the room.

Fluff is everywhere.

Steve has a moment of confusion – why the fuck is there fluff everywhere, why the fuck is he sleeping in their bed – before there’s a soft snuffle to his side.

Steve sees Billy’s bare back, head buried into the remnants of a pillow.

Steve slides over and drapes himself over Billy’s back even though they’re both far too hot. He presses kisses to Billy’s nape, along his jaw, until he feels Billy stiffen awake before he goes totally lax.

Billy turns around with a grin. “Hey.”

“Looks like we destroyed the room.” Steve says.

Billy frowns and looks around. Steve picks up a bit of fluff from his hair and holds it in front of his face.

Billy’s grin takes on a new curve. “Guess I had a lot of energy I never got to use for three and a half weeks.”

Steve cocks a brow. “Before and after we fucked like twenty times?”

Billy laughs, a slight rumble from disuse in the morning. Steve kisses him hard.

“Damn, maybe I should break up with you more often.” Billy notes when Steve’s hands begin to wander.

“Don’t.” Steve tickles Billy’s side, and Billy jolts up with a giggle. “Even.” He digs his fingers in. “Joke.” Steve launches an attack.

Billy squirms and writhes helplessly. “I won’t, I won’t!” He shouts, trying to catch Steve’s hands, only succeeding in grabbing one wrist and holding it aloft.

“Oh fuck.” Billy freezes, eyes wide.

“What?” Steve stops instantly.

“Max.” Billy states.

“Oh fuck.” Steve returns.

*

“ – and you don’t even think to _call_ , and then I try Steve and get nothing, and then I think maybe something awful happened, wouldn’t be the first time, so I call Dustin to see if he’s heard from either of you, nope, try Mike, try Nancy, try –”

Max stops. Her hands rest on her hips, mouth pursed.

Billy and Steve look up in confusion.

“Is that it?” Billy asks.

Max looks between them; Billy’s arm wrapped around Steve’s shoulder, Steve holding that hand and keeping Billy’s arm secure.

“Look, do I even want to know what happened?” Max asks.

“I just thought –”

“I made a bad –”

“You’re both idiots, right.” Max interrupts. “Thanks for clearing that up. Now can you stop crying on my couch –”

“Max, _Jesus_ –”

“And can you stop calling me every three fucking hours –”

“Oh come on, it wasn’t –”

“And next time you fall out, I’m not getting involved.” Max holds her hands up. “You can sort it out yourselves.”

Guilt washes over Steve. He bites his lip and looks at Billy. Billy is grimacing, which is his typical apologetic expression.

“We’ll make it up to you, we promise.” Steve says, then inspiration strikes. “We’ll make you dinner! Tonight!”

“Yeah, we’ll take you out somewhere really fancy.” Billy adds.

“Hey! Is that a comment on my cooking?” Steve elbows Billy, but he’s smiling, and Billy grins back.

Max crosses her arms and cocks a brow. “I guess I could be persuaded. After everything you idiots put me through.”

Steve walks over and wraps her up in an embrace, despite her squirming.

In the end they let Max pick, and Max of course picks the pizzeria two minutes from their apartment.

It’s not what anyone could call fancy, and Max wears jeans and a shirt eerily similar to Billy’s, but her eyes gleam when she’s handed her 14-inch pizza so Steve counts it as a win.

They eat, and laugh, and Billy steals fries off Steve’s plate so Steve steals a slice of pizza, which he likes more than his own. Which makes Billy swap their plates in one smooth move, already stuffing Steve’s pizza before he can complain.

Then Billy stands up.

“Where you going?” Steve asks.

“Take a leak.” Billy ruffles his hair. “Idiot.”

Steve watches him go and feels a pang that Billy couldn’t lean down and kiss him, even now, even after all this time. That the only contact they can have is a knee against one another’s. 

Soon it won’t matter. Soon Steve and Billy will wear matching rings and it’ll be better than any hidden contact underneath the table; it’ll be better than any non-hidden contact too.

“Thanks.”

Steve turns to find Max smiling at him. He shakes his head.

“It was my fault.” Steve begins. “I made a joke and–”

“Let me guess.” Max says. “You said something that Billy took the totally opposite way, he broke up with you without telling you why, and then finally realised it was all a misunderstanding.”

Steve gapes at her. “Wh – did Billy talk to you?” He turns to see where Billy went, turns back to Max.

Max laughs. “No. I just know my brother. Getting him to talk about his feelings is like asking him to pull out his own teeth in front of you.”

Steve chuckles. “Don’t I know it.” He takes a sip of beer. 

“Yet we love him.” She holds up her coke bottle in an imitation of a toast.

“That we do.” Steve lifts his beer and clinks it against Max’s coke.

They smile quietly to one another until Max’s gaze goes over Steve’s shoulder, her smile widening.

Steve turns around to see Billy making his way towards them. His feet are strong and steady in their focus.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed, please drop me a comment! ♥️♥️ Thanks so much! I really appreciate all feedback. Or leave a little kudos if you have none!


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